


Fathers and Sons

by TWCooper



Series: Band of Gold [4]
Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, M/M, Wedding Reception, Weddings, deep talks while looking at the sky, future canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 14:10:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21137993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWCooper/pseuds/TWCooper
Summary: Ben isn't going to let his father ruin his wedding, not even by his absence. When he steps outside for a breath of fresh air, he meets up with an old friend and talks about the true meaning of fatherhood.





	Fathers and Sons

It had been a lovely ceremony. But Ben had to think that. It was his wedding.

The Vic was rammed with far more people than there’d been at the registry office. Amazing how the siren song of free food and booze could call even the most antisocial of Albert Square's residents out to play.

In one corner, Karen was swapping dirty jokes with Mick and Whitney. Meanwhile in another booth, Louise and Bex were trying to pretend they hadn't become completely different people in the years since Lou had become a Mum and Bex had become 'Rebecca', the Oxford graduate.

"Come on, get that down ya," said Jay slamming a pair of shots down on the table.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" Ben said. Jay had already bought him two pints in the last hour.

"Can't let the groom drink alone can I?" said Jay, downing one of the shots with ease. "Now hurry up, before Lola sees."

It seemed Jay had found a loophole in his promise to stay tee-total in solidarity with his pregnant wife.

Ben would have to be careful. He was already feeling buzzed from all the free drinks people had been buying him. That was nothing compared to Callum, mind. For every one drink Ben got bought for him, Callum got three. The pitfalls of being the good guy.

At the bar is husband - _husband _\- was leaning a bit too heavily on the counter, his hand movements large and imprecise. Pam was with him now, making him drink a glass of water while Callum showed her his ring. It had been Les's before he passed away and Pam had passed it on to Ben. Now it was Callum's.

The night was going far too well. Ben didn't trust it. This was Walford. You didn't get married in Walford without someone getting shoved in a lake, going into labour or getting shot. He'd been tensed all evening, waiting for something to kick off, but for once everyone seemed content to just have a good time. Even Stuart was behaving himself. Probably something to do with trouble maker-in-chief Phil Mitchell not being there.

The pub really was warm this evening, Ben thought as he pulled at his collar. The Vic was well over capacity, and the heating was turned up against the autumn cold. It was making the air thick. Yes. That must be what was causing the tightness in his chest.

One of the advantages of being the short, unpopular groom was that no one notices when you duck out of your own wedding reception for a breath of fresh air. The air outside was crisp with the chill of night. It soothed Ben’s lungs, helping to clear his head.

“Maaate,” a very drunk Keegan said, flopping his arm around Ben’s shoulder as he staggered to keep himself upright. “Congratulations mate! You and Cal are class, man.”

“Thanks,” said Ben, gently pushing the drunk away. “I was actually just off… somewhere else where you can’t throw up on my shoes.”

Ben loped off to the garden in the middle of the Square before Keegan could say anything more. Ben flopped himself down on the bench, breathing in deep to chase away the dark thoughts that always lurked in the back of his mind.

He rubbed his hands together to fight the cold from seeping in, his fingers catching against the unfamiliar ring on his hand. It still didn’t seem real. It was like he’d spent the last few months on edge, waiting for the wheels to come off. The last few years, if he was honest. Waiting for the moment where Callum wised up and ran for the hills. Waiting for Lexi to realise what kind of a man her father really was, and turn away from him. Waiting for the moment where the perfectly imperfect life he’d constructed came crashing down, crushing him in the fall.

“So that’s where you’ve snuck off to,” said Pam, her head appearing over a hedge. “I got worried when I you weren’t standing in the centre of attention.”

Ben shifted up to let Pam sit down next to him.

“Thought I’d give Cal the chance for once. It’s hard for him to shine when he’s standing next to me after all.”

“Well he was certainly taking advantage of it,” said Pam. “I think four people bought him a drink in the ten minutes we were talking.”

“Looks like I’m spending my first night of married bliss holding someone’s hair back then,” Ben sighed. “Start as you mean to go on. I’m surprised you left him to the wolves.”

“I left him with the most responsible person I could find. Lexi.”

Ben laughed, imagining his daughter chastising her new step-dad while Callum acted like a drunk teenager pretending to be sober in front of his parents.

“You did a good job with her Ben,” said Pam. “Fine young lady you’ve raised there. Got more sense than most grown-ups.”

“That’s Callum and Jay’s influence, they’re the ones with their heads on straight,” said Ben. “Well… Jay’s is anyway. And Lola raised Lexi for most of her life on her own. Not really sure how much credit I can take for the way Lexi’s turned out.”

Ben turned away, as if he could physically shy away from the pain of the truth. He felt Pam’s hand on his arm.

“It might have taken you a minute,” she said, “But you stepped up in the end. And from what I’ve seen you’ve been making up for lost time.”

Ben looked up at the sky. Even through the London lights, you could make out a star or two.

“When I first found out she was mine, I used to lie up at night praying Lola had made a mistake. That Lexi wasn’t mine. Now I lie awake at night terrified of the same thing. That one-day Lola’s going to turn around and say ‘oh actually you ain’t got a daughter, sorry’.”

Pam’s hand tightened around his wrist. The weight of it was comforting.

“She might have three dads but she's only got one father and Lexi is definitely your daughter. Every time I see her, she looks more and more like you.”

“Hmm?” said Ben, scratching at his chin. “Hope that stops soon. Not sure how she’ll look with stubble.”

Pam slapped him on the wrist gently. “Are you medically incapable of not making a joke about everything?”

Ben looked at her with fake shock. “I will have you know that Smart-mouth-itis is a terrible condition. Got some really harsh side effects. Dry mouth. Headaches. Constantly being punched in the face.”

Pam tapped him on the chin with her fist.

“I can see that,” she said.

“I do wonder how Lexi would have turned out if it had just been me and Lola,” said Ben.

“Oh it would never have just been the two of you. She’s a Mitchell. How many parents, aunts, uncles and surrogate family members do you have at this point? Isn’t that what your Dad’s always going on about? How family is the most important thing.”

Ben shifted in his seat, but no amount of wriggling would make him feel comfortable.

“Yeah. So important that he didn’t even come to his only son’s wedding.”

The night felt quieter, as if the air was holding itself for a moment, waiting. Pam wrapped her arm around Ben’s shoulder, leaning into him.

“What to talk about it?” she asked.

“Not really,” said Ben. The dark thoughts crept forward, but perhaps with Pam here he could face them for once. “But that’s the problem isn’t it. We never talk about it, me and me Dad. He makes snide comments about me being gay. Then I shout at him for being a homophobic prick. Then we don’t speak for a week until some other crisis comes along and we fall back into the way we were before without actually sorting anything out.”

It was a familiar pattern, one Ben knew he should have broken years ago, but fell into over and over again all the same.

“Phil Mitchell,” Pam said, as if the name was a swear word. The two sat in silence for a moment.

“I asked him. To the wedding,” said Ben. “Even did it on a video call so he had to look me in the eye as he said no.”

He could still see Phil’s face on the screen, muttering something about residency visas and not being able to leave the country. It was a bullshit excuse, one that had crumbled when Ben called him out on it. Two minutes of screaming at each other later, Ben hung up. The same old pattern. Over and over.

Pam squeezed his arm again. Ben was unsurprised to feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

“What kind of Dad can I be to Lex when that is what I’ve got to look at.”

“You, Lola, Callum. None of you got very lucky in the Dad department,” said Pam. “But you know what that means? It means you all had a front-row seat of what not to do.”

“I hope so,” Ben said. He looked up to stop himself from crying. He would not let that man ruin his wedding day. “God I hope so.”

There was a crash from the Vic. Ben turned to see his Callum leaning against the wall, apologising to the pile of crates he’d just knocked over. A snort burst out of Ben before he could stop it, and the noise made Callum turn, tripping over the boxes to fall flat on his face.

“I’m okay,” Callum called from a heap on the floor.

When Ben had finished laughing he gave Pam one last quick hug.

“If you’ll excuse me, I better go rescue my husband.”

His face broke into a grin at the last word.

“Hold onto that feeling,” said Pam. “Remember what it’s like now. You’ll need to pull it back out in a year’s time when he’s left his socks on the bathroom floor for the third time this week.”

“Night Pam.”

By the time Ben had crossed the road, Callum had gotten himself to his feet, though he’d almost pulled over one of The Vic’s plant pots to do it.

“Hello Mr Ben Mitchell-Highway,” Callum said, with the clipped preciseness of someone frantically trying to pretend they aren.t completely bladdered. “Or did we decide Highway-Mitchell? I can’t remember.”

Ben grabbed Callum just as he was about to go over again. “When you can’t remember your own name, it’s time to go home.”

“Shouldn’ we say goodbye?” Callum asked leaning heavily against Ben. He was warm against Ben’s side. “It’s our wedding innit. We can’t just sneak out of our Big Day.”

“Why not,” said Ben, beginning the lurch home. “If it’s our day then we should get to decide when it’s over, and I think it should’ve been over for you half a bottle of tequila ago.”

“The tequila miiiiiight have been a mistake,” Callum said, swaying far enough that Ben almost fell over. Thank goodness they only lived a few hundred metres away.

“And here I was. All ready to have a night of passion wearing nothing but my new tailor fitted waistcoat.”

“Aww…” Callum moaned as they turned down the path up to their front door.

“S’alright,” Ben said. “There’s always tomorrow morning. And the one after that. And the one after that. And all the other ones after those.”

“Mhmm,” Callum mumbled. His long arms wrapped around his husband’s neck as Ben tried to get the door open. “I am _very_ looking forward to being m’rried to you.”

The door opened, the pair of them half falling into the corridor together.

“Me too Mr Callum Mitchell-Highway-Highway-Mitchell. Me too.”


End file.
